


The First

by obviousnerd



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Confusion, F/M, Friendship/Love, Light Angst, Personal Growth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-16 02:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11244360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obviousnerd/pseuds/obviousnerd
Summary: One curious mistake and Isala's life changes forever. The beginning of Dragon Age: Inquisition, written to suit my future Inquisitor, if I stick with it it'll head into Solavellan territory. Loosely follows story, some personal takes on conversations etc.





	1. The First

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfiction, likely the first of a series. Please let me know what you think. PS I apologise for my shoddy punctuation. I do love a good comma.

With a start, Isala jerked away from the damp, stone wall. Struggling to see through her clouded vision, she realised she was in a small, dank and gloomy cell. A slow trickle of stagnant water dripped from the ceiling into a moss-covered drain on the ground. As she became accustomed to her surroundings she suddenly realised her left hand felt incredibly strange and was glowing with a strange green power, almost as if it was shining out of a wound on her palm. Her wrists were cuffed tightly together, and she ached, oh how she ached, as if she had fought a great bear and lost. Quick footsteps broke her from her reverie, growing louder and louder as they approached the one door in her cell. It flew open, revealing a tall, stern looking woman. 

"You. Who are you? What have you done?" she barked, Isala studied the woman before replying, noting the large scar across her cheek, short black hair and very bloody sword strapped to her hip. She must have been in her mid thirties, an obvious warrior. Isala opened her mouth to reply and then thought better of it. She had learnt that sometimes silence was the best option, she also knew that as far as she was aware, she hadn't done anything wrong.

The woman crouched down on her haunches in front of Isala, she reached out a gloved hand and roughly grabbed her chin, forcing their eyes to meet.

"Cassandra!" 

A second woman had entered the cell, so quietly that Isala, usually very alert to possible dangers, hadn't noticed. 'Cassandra' tightened her hold on Isala's chin, it began to hurt, her thumb digging into her flesh.

"The prisoner won't co-operate, Leliana, even as the headsman looms."

Leliana, the second woman, glared at Isala, eyes narrowed. She was blandly pretty and wore the light armour indicative of a rogue. Whilst Cassandra stood a head taller, Isala could sense the less obvious threat. Rogues were generally very clever, although she had known a fair few idiots. 

"An elf..Speak, prisoner. Your life is on the line. Do you deny that you murdered our beloved Divine?" 

Isala wet her lips with her tongue before speaking, the taste of blood filled her mouth. 

"I don't know what's going on. I barely remember anything. A woman? She helped me. Then suddenly I woke up here. That's all I can say. Believe me or don't, I no longer care."

The words came out coldly, she was well used to hostility. Cassandra leapt forward and hauled Isala to her feet, 

"I'll show you myself." she hissed.

She tugged Isala out of her cell by her handcuffs, glancing down at the green light occasionally. Leliana seemed to have disappeared as quietly as she had come. Finally, they reached a heavy looking door which Cassandra knocked twice on and then waited. After an awkward pause, it swung open and light flooded the passage. Isala had to close her eyes, it was blinding after being in such darkness. As she squinted, the first thing she noticed was a huge green shape in the sky, casting a tint onto the snowy mountains surrounding them. There were many soldiers scattered around and a few villagers, all stopped to stare at Isala as she was further hauled forwards by Cassandra. The air stank of burning and some strange unidentifiable smell. It was obvious something terrible had happened, but Isala couldn't remember, it was as if there was a block in her memory. They walked along, people began to sneer at Isala, who made it her mission to hold the gaze of every person she passed. She hadn't done anything wrong, had she? She wished she could remember! Even without her memories intact, she was not a bad person. She would not kill innocents, not on purpose. Not unless it was a huge accident, which, as doubt began to creep in, unsettled her greatly. "They are certain of your guilt. Keep following me." Cassandra said, noting the gazes. She broke Isala's handcuffs with a fancy looking knife and strode ahead. Slightly bewildered, Isala followed. "We must now go to the breach. You are a mage, yes? Of course. I do not have much care for mages. I do not trust you. We have no staffs here." Cassandra said, with a disgusted tone. "Do you really think I need a staff to be dangerous?" Isala replied. Another one with a fear of magic, she thought, how very typical. She was not lying, she was dangerous. Staffs helped with control, but in the years since coming into her magic, she had not often used one. Where she was from, her magic was shunned, it made her different, an outsider. It was an old wound which Isala had harnessed into strength, not completely without bitterness. She was used to being alone, to relying on herself. Her magic comforted her, even without friends, she never felt totally alone, particularly in dreams when she walked the fade. Cassandra spat on the ground and turned to Isala, sneering, "I'm sure you are very dangerous. You are at the centre of this event, the murder of most holy. Even so, I must trust you to some extent, you haven't attacked me yet." "You haven't attacked me either. Should I trust you?" Cassandra opened her mouth to reply - but before she could, there was a loud fizzing sound. They moved back to back instinctively, as two demons burst from the ground to attack. They threw themselves upon the two women, long, sharp claws desperately trying to rip into their flesh. With a shout, Cassandra drew her sword and pushed the demons back with a mighty kick. Isala summoned fire and engulfed the demons in flame. They shrieked and crumpled to the ground, before shrivelling up and vanishing from whence they came. "We must hurry." Cassandra said, walking past the freshly dead bodies of soldiers that had been pushed to the side of the path. "We need to help them." "Who?" replied Isala. "You'll see." Isala began to hear the distant sounds of fighting ahead, steel clashing against steel, bright lights flashing. Magic? She thought. She had never even spoken to another mage. Her experiences of other mages had always been of a quiet wonder, too fearful to try and talk to them, the threat of attack or embarrassment was always too much. Cassandra broke into a run, with Isala following. There was indeed fighting, underneath a floating tear in what seemed the air itself, was several demons being harried by soldiers. Standing a few metres away, firing crossbow bolts into the fray was a very short, stocky man and on the far side of the battle, an actual mage, fighting his own group of demons, Struggling, by the looks of it too, she thought. Cassandra had already vanished into the fighting, Isala threw out a barrier on herself and the mage and raced across to help, summoning lightning from her fingertips to push the demons back. The mage startled slightly at her presence but nodded and continued to use his staff to attack. Isala could feel his magic interacting with hers, it flew around her and towards the enemies, almost caressing her own mana as it did so. She let her magic join together with his, increasing the spells power. The demons crumpled, suddenly the mage grabbed her wrist and pointed her palm towards the tear, green light danced between it as the tear shrunk and then disappeared. Isala jerked her wrist out of his hands and stepped away, she was not used to being touched and it had startled her. "Your hand can be used to close the rifts. I was right." The mage said, he had a slightly musical voice, strangely accented. Isala raised her eyes to his and almost gasped as she noticed he too was an elf. He was older than her, she thought, unsure of how much by really. Her initial discomfort at meeting another elf was forgotten by his slight smile, he tilted his head to her in a way of greeting. "My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions." "Isala." She replied, unnerved. She had not spoken to another elf in years, much less a male elf and to be a mage too! Today really was a strange day of firsts. At her cold reaction, his eyes narrowed slightly and he looked away. She was vaguely worried she had embarrassed him, but at the same time she felt her usual wall go up. The wall that hid her pain, her emotions.

"I observed the mark while you were unconscious. It is clear that it can be used to seal rifts, how it came to be, however, is another matter entirely."

"He means, 'I kept that mark from killing you whilst you slept' ."

The short man, who Isala had realised was a dwarf, strolled over. She had never seen a dwarf before, only heard some wild stories. He had a cocky attitude about him, the way he casually slung his crossbow across his back, his smirk as he glanced up at Cassandra.

"This is Varric Tethras. Rogue, businessman, occasional storyteller."

She rolled her eyes while making the introduction. Varric chuckled in response,

"Have you seen the valley, Seeker? Crawling with demons. You need me and Bianca."

"Bianca?" 

Isala questioned without thinking.

"My crossbow, she's helped me through many a hard time."

"Oh. Nice."

Isala looked away, this was the most conversation she had had in years and as the adrenaline from the battle faded she grew weary and impatient to keep moving. Cassandra gestured to them to follow her as she strode ahead, Solas looking exasperated at some joke that Varric was telling. Isala was incredibly tired and weak, but too proud to show it. She trailed along behind, observing her strange new companions. The elf and the dwarf looked comical considering their height differences, Solas was tall, broad compared to most elven men she had known before, his head had been shaved completely bald and his feet were bare. Elves didn't feel the cold as much as humans, it used to be a source of pride back when Isala still lived at home. Home, she still thought of it as home after years in exile, hating them all and at the same time being consumed by loneliness. Still, she was repulsed and curious at being near to another of her kind, he had seemed polite enough, she could deal with that. The magic definitely intrigued her, Isala had never been able to talk to another mage, to share her experiences and listen to theirs. Even trailing a few metres behind she could feel his magic emanating from him, as if he breathed it. The dwarf by contrast was short, obviously. He was wrapped in thick leathers that stopped short of his chest, exposing a rug of chest hair. She noticed the many good hoops through his ears and wondered if rogue was his specialisation or also in fact his lifestyle. Likely both, she thought. The group reached a line of soldiers, guarding another outpost. With a gesture from Cassandra they heaved open the doors and ushered her through, the others hurrying behind. Leliana waited at a desk surrounded by men dressed in official wear, all arguing in raised voices. She heard them mention 'the prisoner' several times and readied herself for confrontation. Shoulders back, face expressionless, she followed Cassandra to meet them. "You're alive. This is chancellor Rodrick." Leliana muttered. "Ah, the fabled prisoner. An elf no less! Why hasn't she been hung already? She is clearly guilty of mass murder, I demand that you execute her at once!" The man standing closest to Leliana spat. "She has fought with us, she bears the mark of the breach. She can close rifts. I am no longer sure of her guilt." Cassandra said forcefully. Isala was slightly taken aback at the warriors defense of her, considering how less than an hour ago she was making threats. "We need her." Solas joined in. "I'm trying to help, can't you see that? I certainly don't want innocent people to die because of this..this..whatever this is. I don't know how I got the mark, but it's done. I'm sorry for what's happened, but it wasn't my fault." Isala said, looking between the chancellor and Leliana. Leliana nodded and pulled Cassandra away to talk quietly. The chancellor shook his head and stood arms crossed, glaring at Isala, who glared straight back. Varric snorted and then coughed, hiding a smile. She couldn't help but warm to him a little, she had always had a good sense of humour, when she had had anyone to share it with. It lightened the awful situation she had somehow become embroiled in. The mark on her hand burned suddenly, surprising her, she clutched it and stifled a gasp. "It hurts?" Solas said. "Right now..yes, beforehand not particularly. I just want to know what it is, really." Isala replied. "I think we all do." Came Solas's reply, he watched her righten herself as Cassandra returned to lead them onwards into more fighting. By way of explanation, she said that they were travelling to the first known rift to attempt to end it. Leaving the outpost, doors being held back by soldiers, demons flooded the ground ahead. Bodies littered the ground, those faces visible twisted in agony. The stench of death and metal soured the air. They threw themselves into battle, Cassandra vanishing beneath a wave of demons. Varric had begun unleashing 'Bianca' on his enemies, Isala noticed his grimace as he fired a bolt clean through the head of an approaching demon. She and Solas had covered the outskirts of the battle, as she had learnt was wise for a mage to do, protecting the warriors whilst using elemental force against the attackers. Blood spattered and exhausted, the fighting died down as the last of the demons was dispatched, its awful screech making Isala's ears ring. They hurried forward, barely stopping to catch a breath, although she could tell Cassandra was injured from the fight, she now moved with a slight limp. She had no idea how any of them were still standing, if I make it out of this with my head, she thought, I will never take rest for granted again. "We approach the rift." Cassandra said, stopping briefly. "You must try and seal it, it's the only way." Isala nodded, she had resigned to help. She was not a bad person and didn't like to see the deaths of so many people. If the mark could really make a difference, she couldn't just stand and watch, particularly as the question of her guilt still loomed. As they moved closer to the rift, they began to hear a loud echo, a voice speaking, but not to them. "What is this?" Cassandra shouted. "A memory perhaps!" Solas replied. The voice continued, as they rounded one last corner before the rift, they could see a huge shadow within, a figure, clutching some poor woman with huge claws whilst she begged for help. Suddenly Isala heard her own voice, "What's going on here?" The echo of her voice said. "We have an intruder, kill the elf." The ominous voice spat. Isala saw herself, but it wasn't really her, was it? Running towards the struggling woman and her captor. Then there was a blinding flash of light and she and her companions were thrown to the ground. The rift remained, but the shadows were gone. "Quickly, you must seal it! Solas, why are there no demons?" Cassandra shouted. "It is neutral, for now. But opening it in order to close it will likely attract the presence of them." Isala raised her palm towards the rift, it began to burn intensely, the pain making her cry out. The air seemed to stretch before them, darkness coiling out of somewhere unseen. With a roar, a huge, horned demon erupted from the rift, landing with a ground-shaking thud and making her stagger. It bared its many teeth, creating lightning between its claws and moved in to attack. Here we go again, she thought, pelting it with ice and fire. She was a whirlwind of elements, never before had she let her magic run free like this, she felt completely alive even while being in danger of becoming the opposite. Her companions fought together, bringing the demon down slowly while fighting to deflect it's devastating attacks as it pummeled its way through soldiers that had joined the fray. Eventually it crumpled to it's knees, Isala raised her hand to the rift once again and with a snapping noise the demon was sucked back in, desperately trying to fight the invisible force. Isala suddenly felt incredibly weak, the past events of the day catching up with her for good. She sank into her knees, the last thing she saw was the muddy, blood spattered ground rising to meet her and then she knew no more.


	2. Haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isala wakes up in Haven and struggles to adapt to recent events. Continues from where Chapter 1 ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm enjoying getting back into writing, excuse my possible spelling fails and punctuation.
> 
> Isala means 'need' in elvhen. I did my research ;)
> 
> Na melana sahlin (elvhen) = Your time is come.  
> Shem/Shemlen = Elvhen word for human.  
> Knife-Ear = A derogatory word for an Elf.

Falling, falling through blackness into an endless pit. Flashes of green light disrupted the dark, in the depths of unconsciousness, she thought she heard a woman's voice -

"Na melana sahlin."  
It whispered.

Isala's eyes flew open, the echoes of the whisper still rushing through her mind. The light was blinding, squinting, she sat up. As her awareness returned, she realised that she was in a cosy little cabin, the embers from a recent fire still smouldering in the fireplace. Someone had changed her into a simple, beige tunic and leggings. 'Who, I wonder.' she thought, nervously. Sitting up, she realised that she had been put to bed, unsure of how long she had been asleep. She sat on the edge, recapping her last memories. The mark on her hand, being imprisoned and accused, Cassandra, Varric and the mage, Solas, fighting the huge demon..and then, darkness. She vaguely remembered dreaming and hearing a woman's voice, but already she couldn't remember what they said. Looking at her hand now, the mark was still obvious. But it shimmered faintly as she turned her palm this way and that and it no longer burned as it had done before. An annoyance at best, she decided. But what now? Where was everyone? Was she still 'the prisoner'?  
The door to the cabin swung open, a young Elven girl crept in, her arms full of supplies. On noticing Isala was awake and watching her, she flung herself to the ground, supplies scattering everywhere and lay there, glancing up at Isala with a terrified expression.

"Umm..what on earth are you doing?"  
Isala asked, bemused.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I thought you were still unconscious. Cassandra said.."  
The girl said in a rush.

"Cassandra said..?"

"She's in the chantry with the others. You've been out for 3 days miss, you are in Haven. You closed the rift. They say you were sent from Andraste herself!"

"You don't need to be afraid of me. I'm very, very confused right now..so..I imagine I'm supposed to meet them."

"Oh yes! They'll want to know you live, miss. We weren't sure you would wake. The healer and the mage have been monitoring you, but the mage said it was out of their hands-"

"The healer and the mage..?"

"Well, Adan swears he isn't a healer. He runs the apocatherapy, miss. The mage, Solas his name was, seemed to know more. He studied your hand before."

"Uh huh. Well, I should go then. Please don't be afraid of me, I won't hurt you."

Isala rose to her feet slowly, she still felt shaky from being bed ridden for so long. She forced a smile at the girl, who leapt to her feet and ran out the door, tripping over her own feet as she went. Outside, Isala could hear the murmur of many voices talking at once, frantically. Her stomach sinking, she stepped out of the cabin and braced herself for what awaited her. People, hundreds of them, all lined up in the snow all the way from the outside of her cabin up towards a towering building, which judging by the symbols ordorned on the walls, must be the chantry. They went quiet as soon as they saw her, all staring. To Isala, the sea of faces was incredibly intimidating. Completely overwhelmed, she walked between them, trying to concentrate on her feet and not her audience. She heard someone whisper 'filthy knife-ear' somewhere in the crowd and spun around in shock, already feeling her magic swelling within fingertips. The villagers tittered, she even heard a few laughs somewhere. This was hell for her, barely seeing another person for years and then in the space of a few days being foisted into this! Scanning the crowd, she noticed Varric, craning to see over the shems. He grinned at her and waved sarcastically. Isala scowled and turned away, she had nearly made it to the chantry doors, escaping one hell straight into another. She knocked violently on the doors, mentally pleading with them to open before she exploded with anger and panic. Thankfully it didn't take long and Cassandra stood waiting to meet her, looking as stoic as ever. "Ah, I've just been informed that you've awoken and here you are. The 'Herald of Andraste' herself." She said. "The Herald? Andraste? What?" Isala replied, completely taken aback. "The people see you as a symbol of hope, this is a dark time for all of us. They need it. You sealed those rifts, right now we need something, anything to inspire us all." "So I went from being a wanted criminal to some kind of hero, just like that? This is ridiculous." Isala sighed. "The people need you. Please, come with me. I have some friends I'd like you to meet." Cassandra began to stride up the chantrys hall, the buildings interior was heavily decorated in various different drapings and carpets. There were a few chantry members milling around idly and raised voices coming from a room up ahead. A room sadly, that Cassandra had stopped outside of, ready to knock. The door swing open, they were greeted by a flustered looking woman, wearing a loud outfit weaved of golds and purples. "You're here! Quickly, before Chancellor Rodrick sees." She said in a strange accent, ushering them inside. There were two more people beyond the doorway. A man, looking flustered and wringing his hands and..oh, Leliana. Isala wasn't exactly happy to see her. The man straightened and smiled at her, he wore a heavy suit of steel armour adorned with black fur and feathers around his collar. He was tall, blonde and typically handsome. Another warrior, like Cassandra. Leliana nodded in greeting, she seemed wearier than she did on their last encounter, something about the way she stepped forward, a huge book in her hands. "Isala, this is Josephine Montilyets, Ambassador of Antiva. She is brilliant with matters of diplomacy and a valuable asset." Cassandra gestured at the first woman. She moved on, "Commander Cullen, who controls our forces." He dipped his head in greeting, "And you know Leliana. Our spymaster." Cassandra finished. "Impressive titles..and why..am I here exactly?" Isala said, with a hint of sarcasm. "Like I said, we need you. We need an inquisition, to help stop the breach. We are allies now, we must work together." Replied Cassandra. Isala began to panic- "I didn't agree to any of this. I don't want this mark! I can't be a part of it, I'm an elf mage, an apostate. Surely even you can see how ridiculous this sounds!?" "Ridiculous maybe, but it is necessary. You've seen the sky, you know what's at stake. People are dying, your mark seems to be the key to stopping whatever this is. Please." Cullen answered, already looking a little exasperated. She felt their eyes upon her, waiting. How pathetic she must look to them with their titles, a young woman with no standing, apart from some stupid green light on her hand. "Well, I really don't have a choice do I. Nowhere is safe now.. So I will help. Just tell me what to do." She was truly stuck, she heard the sense in their words but her heart was racing so fast and oh! She felt unsteady on her feet, she could really only agree, after all. Her life before, a life of freedom, yes, but also loneliness, was over. It was over regardless, she couldn't win. They talked in hushed tones for hours about the new inquisition, Isala didn't understand half of the terms they used, but she tried her best to follow. The hours dragged by, she was inundated with names, places and knowledge of things she had never heard before. They pored over Leliana's book, supposedly containing the rules and history of the previous inquisition. They clearly had no idea that Isala couldn't even read, well, at least not shemlen words. She had never had a cause to learn, being raised in a very traditional Dalish clan with little fondness for humans and barely any books. It was decided that she would travel to the Hinterlands with Cassandra, Varric and Solas to meet a holy woman, 'Mother Giselle' and offer assistance dealing with refugees and apostates. It seemed the Hinterlands had been involved in some civil war of late, mages and templars fighting constantly and innocent people getting caught in the crossfire. The inquisition had a small army and some support already, her acquaintances had worked very fast in a few short days. Because people had started to call Isala 'The Herald', it wouldn't hurt to spread that influence. They needed as much aid as they could get, the chantry had been useless, thrown into disarray after the death of their divine. A crime Isala had now been cleared off, at least in the inquisition eyes. She returned to her cabin later that day, head still spinning. As much as she dug her heels in, they were right. She could help. She just had to get used to it. The next day after a fitful sleep, Isala hesitantly explored Haven, having been advised to sort some appropriate armour, weapons if needed and further supplies. She heard the blacksmith before she saw him, the hammering of metal and shouts of the workers. He treated her well, which she didn't expect. Before long he had pieced together some light leather armour. His name was Harritt and she had decided she liked him, he was blunt but cheerful and clearly skilled in his work. The forge lay on the edge of Haven, opposite the training area in which Cassandra, Cullen and the inquisition's soldiers spent hours swinging swords at dummies and each other with enthusiasm. Isala was skilled with a dagger, but since coming into her magic had barely touched one. It wasn't completely forgotten to her, but she no longer relied on it. Still, she appreciated their commitment to improving themselves. It was oddly relaxing, being out in the open so close to fighting, she felt more at peace away from prying eyes. These people all had more important things to do. Her next stop was the apocatherapy, which was between a cluster of homes nearest the chantry. Adan, the apocatherapist, 'NOT a healer', he had stated, had given her a full bag of salves and potions to be used when necessary. He also requested that she collect valuable herbs for him, it was only fair, after he had helped heal her for days before. Isala left the apocatherapy, arms full of bottles, when as if he had appeared out of thin air, she suddenly found herself face to face with Solas. She hadn't seen him since they closed the rift, Isala wondered where he had been the whole time.

"The Chosen of Andraste, a blessed hero sent to save us all."  
Solas smiled. She could tell he wasn't trying to mock her, although she still felt slightly nervous around him. The feeling gnawed away, but she realised she cared what he thought of her. He was an elf and a mage, just like her.

"That sounds dashing! Am I riding in on a shining steed?"  
Isala babbled and felt herself blush.

"Ha, I would have suggested a griffin, but sadly they are extinct."  
He replied.

"So, you're a part of our inquisition now?"  
'our inquisition' Isala thought, surprised at herself.

"Yes, I ran to the breach as soon as I saw the commotion. I helped in any way I could, searched the fade, sadly it seems normal magic is ineffective against it. I joined up with Cassandra and Varric and obviously after a while, yourself. I hope to stay here, at least until the breach has been closed."

"You searched the fade?  
She was surprised.

"Yes. In dreams I walk the fade, every night if possible. I have been doing it for..a long time."

"I didn't know it was a common thing."

"You are a mage, most only do it occasionally. It is still daunting for many of them."

"I've been doing it all my life.. I've met a few spirits. One, I spoke to often when I was young. She was kind - "

Isala stopped abruptly, she had already revealed too much of herself, to someone who was basically a stranger. There was so much she didn't know. She felt like a child, although she had left her childhood years behind years ago. 

"I also know several spirits, spirits of wisdom and purpose. They hold knowledge of many years, I find it very interesting to speak with them when I need to... You surprise me, Herald."

"I'm not 'the herald'."  
Isala said bluntly. 

"Aren't you? In any case..you are something."  
Solas gave her a slightly quizzical look, his eyes narrowing. She noticed the deep scar above his eyebrow and wondered how he had gotten it. No elves that she had known looked like him, he had an arresting face, perhaps not one you would call standardly handsome but certainly there was something about him. 

"Maybe you'll find out."  
She fired back, surprising herself.

He smiled confidently,  
"Maybe I will, Isala. 'Need' how appropriate. In any case, I will talk to you some other time."  
He began to move past her into the apocatherapy, she watched him leave. She still felt flustered from the encounter, taken aback by his confidence. Isala had no one left that she could call a friend, her attitude was a far cry from what it had been in her days of wandering with her clan. Perhaps along this journey she could make some, she thought for the first time. On her way back to her cabin she spied Varric warming his hands over an open fire. Haven was high up in the mountains, it was always cold. Yet he still wore an open shirt, perhaps his gratuitous chest hair kept him warm? Then again she knew nothing about dwarves, they could very well be as hardy as elves. He spied her and waved her over, her stomach dropped a little as she was eager to return to the isolation of her cabin, she had had quite enough interaction for one day. Particularly after her conversation with Solas, which she still felt odd about. "Herald! I hope you're feeling well. Looking forward to our next great adventure in the Hinterlands?" Varric chuckled. "I'm not sure if you would say I was eager to leave, but I'll admit I'm interested to explore more of Ferelden." She said in truth. "Also, I'm not the herald." She added. "Ha! You'll have a hard time convincing everyone else of that. Anyway, we should focus on this weird hole in the sky and go from there. I wouldn't like to be in your shoes, this rift shit is weird." "You're telling me." Isala replied, abscently mindedly rotating her palm. They watched the green light flicker, Varric whistled. "Good luck with that, anyway herald, you should get some rest. Big day tomorrow!" "So should you. Unless dwarves can go all night?" She said without thinking. "Go all night!? Wouldn't you like to know!" He burst out laughing. Isala felt herself blush deeply and stuttered, "No! That's not..that's not what I meant. Argh. Goodbye, Varric!" She rushed off, leaving him chuckling still behind her. Back in the safety of her cabin, Isala relaxed onto her bed. Outside it had grown quiet as the evening drew on, it was silent indoors apart from the occasional crackling of the fire. She sipped from a mug of tea, something she had discovered earlier, closing her eyes and getting her thoughts in order. Tomorrow would definitely be a challenge, then again, she should really be used to it by now.


	3. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey to the Hinterlands. Isala gets to know her companions better and relives her past in the fade. Direct continuation of Chapter 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I changed from HTML to Rich Text for this one as I don't understand how to do all the fancy italics etc with HTML.) 
> 
> This work is going to be looonggg.
> 
> Ir Abelas (Elvhen) = I am sorry.

They set off at the crack of dawn the next morning for the Hinterlands. Cassandra had informed them that it would take at least two days to reach the border, even on horseback. Isala had very rarely seen horses, usually only in passing, when she had ventured close to settlements. Her entrusted steed was huge, she barely reached it's shoulder and Isala was not short. A dark bay, he had no name and had been traded on the cheap to the inquisition the previous day, along with the rest of his here. They were described as 'unmanageable mules' and so, this one became Isala's first experience on horseback. An 'unmanageable mule'..for a beginner. Cassandra, Varric and Solas all had their own mounts too, and seemed comfortable enough, besides Varric who's saddle had to be adjusted for him to have any hope of control.  

"Well this is..awkward. Seeker, can't I just sit behind you? I promise, I'll be no trouble at all." He joked.

Cassandra made a disgusted noise and didn't answer.

"What's a seeker?" Isala asked curiously.

"We are the Seekers of Truth." Cassandra replied. "Those who know anything of us think we are templars. We do not use lyrium, however. Our abilities are different, as was our original purpose. We disciplined the templars and were accountable only to the Divine – and not even her, truthfully." 

"That's interesting. Then what abilities do you have exactly?" Isala asked.

"Ugh.. I can set the lyrium in a person's blood aflame, any mage or templar who has it within their blood will bend before my will."

"Do you not like to talk about it?" 

"It's not that, it's complicated. Few understand." Cassandra said.

"Don't worry Herald, Cassandra is always like this." Varric butted in.

"Shut up."

"Hey, hey, I'm helping you out here. No need for our new friend to think of you as rude _and_  grumpy instead of just grumpy is there?"

Cassandra made another disgusted noise and Isala coughed to disguise her laugh. She felt more comfortable now, learning of the dynamic between her companions, Solas at least, had barely known them longer than she had. She noticed him smiling at Varric and Cassandra's exchange though he said nothing. He seemed confident on a horse, she wondered where he was from, he certainly wasn't Dalish, for he had no vallisin. Without thinking, she reached up to trace her own, following the lines of her tattoo from her cheekbones, under her eyes and up to her nose. At the time it had given her great pride, a symbol of her love for her Elvhen gods. Now, although it had become a part of her face, it made her bitter. Another reminder of the clan who had cast her out unfairly, taking away the only people she had ever knew as friends, family.. She pushed the memories from her mind and focused on the back of her horse's head instead. He had been remarkably well behaved, for an unmanageable mule. 

They camped on the side of a mountain, the only sheltered area large enough to raise tents without sleeping in fear of the ground crumbling beneath them. Once the camp had been set up, Varric cooked up a simple stew for them, by this point Isala was achingly hungry and devoured her portion twice as quickly as anyone else.

"Impressive, one would think you had never seen food before." Solas commented.

"Oh, I'm still getting used to not having to hunt for food. It must have been very different for you..growing up in the city." she replied.

"I did not grow up in a city, I lived in a village to the north." He replied.

"Were there many other elves there?"

"Yes..and no."

"What do you - " Isala said, confused.

"Herald, you are Dalish yes? Why were you at the conclave in the first place? I have been wondering." Cassandra interrupted, mid mouthful of stew.

"I..I was passing. I heard shouts and something didn't seem right."

"What about your clan?" said Cassandra.

"I have no clan. I haven't for years." Isala replied quietly.

"No clan? It is rare to see lone wandering elves, most stay in cities or move as a clan." Solas interjected.

"No clan. I keep to myself." she replied, growing increasingly uncomfortable. She didn't want to talk about it, she hoped it was obvious. Solas changed the subject smoothly, questioning Varric about his career as a writer. Apparently he had written quite a few famous books, not that Isala had read them, obviously. The others talked well into the night until Cassandra announced she was retiring to her tent. She was sharing with Isala, whilst Varric and Solas shared another. The fire had begun to die out, the last sparks of flame gradually becoming muffled by drifting snow. Whilst they were more sheltered here than out in the open, the weather in the mountains was unforgiving. Apparently the Hinterlands was quite different and Isala looked forward to seeing it, she was sick of the snow already. Feeling tired herself, she bid the others goodnight and crawled into her tent, where Cassandra was already lying with her eyes closed, asleep or at least pretending to be. She unfastened her leather tunic and unwound her footwraps, leaving her just in her thick underclothes, a luxury she hadn't experienced before. Shuffling into her sleeping bag, she turned her back to Cassandra and quickly fell asleep, drifting off to the distant mumbling of Varric and Solas still very much awake outside. 

In her dreams she wandered through a vast forest, brushing low hanging branches and tall stalks of Elfroot out of her path as she walked. All was silent and still, apart from the occasional call of a bird of prey in the distance. Beams of sunlight split the trees, guiding her path. She did not know how long she walked, but felt she had a purpose that had yet to be discovered. Isala had a strange, niggling feeling about the forest, almost as if it were a memory just out of reach. It wasn't distressing or comforting, more unsettling. The trees became more and more dense, shutting the sun out completely, the air smelt of damp earth, it became harder to see, to breathe, it was completely silent now, as if the forest held it's breath. She became anxious, anticipating the unknown. Suddenly a shriek pierced the quiet, Isala froze, listening. Up ahead there was obviously quite a struggle taking place, sounds of scrabbling and thumping, followed by a triumphant laugh. Someone was in danger, that was clear. She had started running before she realised, sprinting across the forest floor until she reached the edge of a small clearing. There was a group of three elves, circling a crumbled body in the grass. Isala hadn't been quiet in her approach but they didn't notice her, or even her gasp as she moved closer to see. It was like she didn't exist to them.. Her world stopped, pausing before shattering around her. It was her, it was her, lying on the grass. This was her memory. There was no mistaking it. It was hers, Isala's silver hair plastered across her face with sweat, eyes wild and staring, her newly tattooed vassilin still slightly inflamed upon her face, skinny limbs splayed out awkwardly on the ground, her clothes ripped and plastered in mud. It had been quite the chase, she remembered, feeling sick. The hunters had chased her for what seemed like hours, finally realising what she was after she had worked for so long to hide herself. Her clan had hated magic with a passion, hated mages. They spoke of it with disgust in the rare times it was mentioned, the younglings telling stories of what they would do to a mage if they ever caught one, with a bloodythirsty kind of enthusiasm that had chilled her to the core. She had never truly known what had caused them to regard magic as evil, they had strayed from some of the old traditions and invented their own insidious ones. Back in the present, or the past even, the tallest of the three elves lashed out at young Isala with a swift kick to the ribs.

"Mage bitch." He spat. "You thought we wouldn't find out, hiding from us with your clever little tricks, who knows what sorcery you've been manipulating us with!? What curses you've set upon us!" 

Both Isala's whimpered, for different reasons.

"I always knew there was something strange about you." The second elf mused, a female. Her name was MiLa, Isala remembered. "The way keeper Ruiklan treated you, as if you were something special. How you snared Assan, took him from me. He was mine!" Her voice rose to a wail, face contorted with rage.

"Calm, Mila, we have her now. It's over. Time to send this demon back to whatever hell she came from." The first elf, Atmael, said mockingly. He crouched down beside Isala, still lying broken on the floor and stroked her hair. 

"What a shame." Atmael whispered, drawing his dagger. He caressed her cheek with it's blade, face tightening as he ran it across her vassilin. "Such a waste." He split open her tunic, exposing the flesh above her heart. The Isala on the ground began to writhe desperately, sobbing as her broken limbs twisted in effort. Isala could only watch, paralysed with shock and sadness as Atmael raised his dagger to strike her, even though only she truly knew what happened next. He began to scream as his arm caught fire, spreading to consume his coat in seconds. Atmael screamed to his friends for help as he frantically rolled and slapped at the flames, although it was useless. Mila and the other elf, Isala had never known his name well enough to remember it, ignored his cries and advanced on Isala's young self, less cocky than before, but determined to kill. Mila went down, veins of electricity wrapping itself around her face, she began screaming in chorus with Atmael who was weakly flailing nearby. The third Elf stared at Isala on the ground in horror and then ran, ignoring the others. Seconds passed, the screams had stopped. Isala watched herself from the shade of the trees, she watched as her young self forced her legs straight and healed them. She watched as she staggered to her feet, cringing at the bodies of Atmael and Mila, charred remains creating an awful smell of cooked flesh. 

"Ir abelas." came a voice from behind her. Isala spun around, forgetting the memory. All around her, the forest dissolved into nothing as she stared at Solas's face. She shouted in surprise and lashed out at him with her fist, he caught it before it connected, the touch bringing her back to the present. The world seemed to spin and suddenly Isala was sitting bolt upright in her tent, gasping for air. Cassandra grunted but didn't wake. She threw her tunic over her head and stormed out of the tent, he was already waiting for her.

"Solas, what the fuck. You had no right! No right!" Isala snarled, inches from his face.

"Ir abelas, Isala. I felt your distress from across the fade, it was not intential." He said softly, palms raised to her defensively.

"I didn't..I didn't want to have to go through that again. For all the memories in the fade, I relive mine? Why?" She asked, her anger turning to sadness.

"It is the fade, there is no certainty there, there is always a chance of it happening, although it is rare. That being said, I am truly sorry. I always thought the Dalish were ignorant, rude maybe, but that?" Solas shook his head in disbelief. "There is no shame in being a mage. Some fear us, they always will. But it is never something I would trade."

"It's alright." she said, though it didn't feel it. "In any case, thank you for trying to come to my rescue, I suppose." she smiled weakly at him.

"You should try and get some proper rest, Herald, we have quite a distance to cover tomorrow, it will be trying, even on that mule of yours." He returned the smile.

"You're right, I'll see you in a few hours, Solas." Isala returned to her tent to sleep, but instead lay staring at the ceiling until Cassandra woke at dawn. 

 

 

 


	4. Hinterlands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isala and company arrive in the Hinterlands. I tried to keep most of the main quest story in place and included my version of a few other important ones. (the Hinterlands had so many side quests!) to be continued in next chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took inspiration from the game's party banter for much of the companion dialogue. Varric loves to push Cassandra's buttons.

They were on the move again by first light. As they descended through the mountains the air grew milder, before long Isala could spy the golds and greens of trees in the distance, signalling the edge of the Hinterlands. They were to be wary, Cassandra had told Isala of the great turmoil the land was in, caused by rogue Templars and Mages warring without and end. Tensions between the two factions had been high for years and now deserters from both sides had set up camp there, causing the needless deaths of innocents and a steady stream of refugees, desperate to escape the fighting in the Hinterlands. 

The horses grew restless, vying to get to the grassy fields on the horizon. Varric grimaced, struggling to maintain a hold on his pony, who persistently gnashed at the bit, causing him to saw on the reins to keep some iota of control. 

"Seeker, where exactly is this camp we're travelling to? I'm not sure I, or this beast can wait any longer." He asked.

"Have patience, dwarf, Scout Harding and the others are only a few miles south of here." She replied.

Varric sighed and lent back in the saddle. A few seconds later he began loudly humming, at which Cassandra threw him a series of scathing looks until he rolled his eyes and grew silent.

After an hour or so more of riding, the ground evened out into a valley full of abundant plants and grasses, bordered by large, Rocky hills and trees. They all breathed a sigh of relief when they saw the Inquisition camp in the distance, which had been set up as soon as word had reached them of their deperature from Haven. Isala dismounted her horse and gently slapped him across the rump, sending him trotting off into the grass to gorge. 

"Scout Harding!" called Cassandra.

"Ah! You're here. Just in time. There's fighting down the hill." a dwarven woman - Harding, replied with a smile. She was young, Isala observed, but clearly in charge of the camp. Harding walked up to her and gave her a nod.

"The Herald of Andraste?" she asked.

"Not this again.." muttered Isala. "Nice to meet you, harding. It's Isala though, just Isala." 

Harding laughed, "as you say.. So, you're a mage? We keep a few staffs around just in case. Noticed you didn't bring one with you." 

"I prefer not to use them, actually."

"You might benefit from it." Solas interjected, he had been standing nearby, listening. "And _I_  might benefit too. No more setting my coat tails on fire by accident." he gave her a small smile.

"I..I did?" Isala stuttered, feeling her face grow hot.

He grinned, "You are powerful, but staffs offer more control. Think of it as..a channel for your magic. I can always teach you, if needs be." 

"I guess it won't hurt to try then, and of course, I'm sorry about your coat." she replied.

He smiled but said nothing. She watched him walk away, there had been no awkwardness from him from their encounter in the fade the night before. Although Isala resented anyone knowing her past, she had decided she was relieved it was someone like him. Someone that, judging from their conversation at dinner, had secrets of their own. 

"So, about that staff?" inquired Scout Harding, gesturing over to the weapons table. 

After being briefed on today's mission, Cassandra, Varric, Solas and Isala set out towards 'The Crossroads' on foot. It was in this village that they would find Mother Giselle and hopefully gain an ally from within the chantry. Harding had also notified them about several rifts in the area, although they were capable of pushing the demons back they needed Isala's mark to close them. Luckily the demons could not stray too far from the rifts, but travellers had been warned to steer clear if they wanted to live, not that there were many travellers due to the civil war. 

As they neared the village, the sounds of signs of a struggle were obvious. The ground had been scorched by flame, wagons lay in splinters to the sides of the road and Isala noticed the reddish brown stains of dried blood, splattered in the dirt. Isala heard a crescendo of steel on steel and then screaming and began to race towards the buildings. A group of five Templars were pushing back a wave of armed villagers, young men carrying pitchforks, axes, anything remotely dangerous they could find. Women and children cowered behind them, mothers covering their children's eyes to shield them from the threat. As Isala approached with the others in tow, the attackers wheeled around and raised their swords in defence. The villagers saw their chance and began to strike, desperately trying to find a gap in the Templars sturdy armour. Cassandra raced straight into the fray, shield raised to protect herself, she fought alongside the villagers, proving her prowess as a warrior. For the first time, Isala wielded her new staff in her hands and fired a bolt of electricity straight at an unaware templar, who shouted in surprise and dropped his sword, the current racing round his steel armour, shocking him to a standstill. Varric and Solas were controlling the perimeters of the fight, Solas protecting Cassandra and the villagers with well placed barriers, while Varric took out one templar with a bolt straight between his visor. The fight did not last long, the last of the Templars collapsed to the ground, blood round his chestplate. No villagers had been fatally injured, this time. It wasn't long before several Inquisition soldiers from Harding's camp arrived, bringing supplies and helping tend to the wounded. 

Drained from the fight, Isala stopped to gather herself. It was then that she was approached by a elderly woman, who reached out a hand in greeting and smiled.

"Mother Giselle?" Isala asked.

"Yes. And you are the supposed 'Herald of Andraste.' It is good to meet you, you helped save these villagers lives today, for that I thank you."

Isala swallowed her exasperation at the title and instead attempted to do what she had actually came to achieve. Mother Giselle was kindly and agreed to help the Inquisition in any way she could. She would act as a voice of reason to the chantry and also take any refugees to Haven, where they were offered sanctuary from the fighting. 

"You did well." Cassandra walked over to congratulate Isala.

"I tried, the refugees deserve safety, I'm glad Haven is offering that."

"Mother Giselle is a good woman. She will be a great asset to us, I have known her for many years." Cassandra added.

Isala smiled at her and nodded, it did feel good to achieve something worthwhile for their cause. She could get used to this, helping people. They left the village to continue exploring, Harding had given them word from a horsemaster located deeper into the Hinterlands, who could potentially be bargained with into providing more mounts for the Inquisition. His farm was over a days travel away, which meant they would need to seek out a spot to camp on the way. The Hinterlands was beautiful, Isala had decided. She liked the ruggedness of the landscape, it was a mixture of plains and mountains, brimming with animals and plants. However, sticking to the main roads was dangerous because of the threat from the rebels. Cassandra led the group trudging through the undergrowth, Varric continuously complaining about needing a bath after all the travelling and fighting. 

"Dwarf, I didn't think you were one for baths considering your usual.. _odour_ isn't any different to what I have to put up with now." Cassandra smirked. 

"Oh Seeker, you're always flirting with me. C'mon just admit it, you're imagining me taking a bath right now." Varric winked.

"No I am not- ugh!" she groaned and shot him a vicious look. 

Varric turned to Solas, grinning at her response. 

"Do you two ever stop?" Solas asked, exasperated. 

"We just have this chemistry, you know? It's a love/hate thing." Varric replied.

Cassandra spat and stormed off, Isala surprised herself by giggling. Varric grinned across at her and she smiled back. Already, only in the space of a few days she had noticed a change in herself, like a great weight was lifting. Without company for so long she had become withdrawn and empty, now with people who seemed to like her, to need her, even with the constant threat of the breach and what was to come, she felt like maybe there were things left to care about, after all.


	5. Friends..?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mainly, a conversation between Isala and Solas, thus revealing more of her history. Still in the Hinterlands...it is massive remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'm sorry for any spelling/punctuation mistakes. Have to blame the spelling on autocorrect (I write on my phone) it keeps changing Isala to Osaka? Who's Osaka!? Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

Isala raised her palm to the rift, feeling the increasingly familiar burning sensation as her mark forced the rift closed with a loud fizzing sound. The demon carcasses had already disintegrated into piles of ash, gently being swept away in the breeze. She turned to Cassandra, wiping her hair off her face with a gloved hand,

"I think that must be the last in this area. We've closed, what, 3? There's barely any ground south of the farm left to scout!" 

"Horsemaster Dennet will be pleased. After our soldiers have helped to fortify the area he won't be able to refuse helping the inquisition." Cassandra replied.

"Thank the Maker for _that_ , now, can we please camp for the night? Bianca and I are exhausted." Varric added, patting his crossbow. 

Over the past two days the group had walked miles across the Hinterlands, climbing rocky slopes and through thick undergrowth in order to reach Horsemaster Dennet's farm. He was a good man, although wary of leaving his farm to support the inquisition considering the problems the land faced. Thus Cassandra had promised him they would protect his land by clearing the local rifts. 

They camped by a small pond, Isala stopping to gather indigenous herbs to bring back to Haven's apocatherapist, Adan. She was used to being on the move, having spent years alone wandering from place to place in order to hunt and salvage food and materials to sustain her. Whilst she did not claim to be an expert, for it certainly wasn't her forte- like magic, she was decent with a bow and dagger. 

Isala reclined on the grass overlooking the camp, eyes closed, listening to Varric and Cassandra argue about some likely trivial thing. What was it with those two? She wasn't sure if they liked or hated each other half of the time, when she heard soft footsteps approaching. She moved up onto her elbows and gave Solas a nod as he went to sit down nearby. 

"There was something I wanted to ask you, Isala, may I?" he said, voice lowered.

"Hmm..that depends. What is it?" she replied.

"About your..clan." 

"Ah. Considering you know more than you should already, you may ask." she raised her eyebrows at him, expectantly.

He gave her a small smile, "How did you manage to hide your true self from them for so long?" 

"I think..after so long treating it like a taboo they almost forgot it could happen to anyone. They didn't expect it, least of all from me." Isala mused.

"Well, that was clearly unwise of them." he replied.

"Obviously. I first came into it when I was 12, I was terrified. I was training to be a hunter, although my heart was never in it. I'd end up in the fade while I slept, thinking I'd gone mad. It took me a while to come to terms with what had happened..to what I was." She said quietly, she felt an echo of the fear she felt at the time, the anxiety of realising that things would never be the same again. 

"A young mage with no guidance can be very dangerous, you were lucky."

"Lucky? Ha, I suppose I was. I tried very hard to conceal it, I'd go off alone alot and just try and get some of it out of my system, you know? Letting it all build up was just as awful as the stress of hiding it."

"Oh yes. I am impressed how proficient you are, considering the lengths you went to hide it." 

"It wasn't good enough in the end.. Our keeper, he was like a father to me. He found me when I was very small, wandering in the forest apparently. I thought he was a good man, but the way he looked at me when he discovered the truth.." Isala shuddered. "Still, he managed to convince the clan to let me live in exile rather than be executed so, every silver lining?" She smiled without humour, feeling her eyes beginning to well up and hating herself for it.

Solas reached out to her and gently squeezed her shoulder, a touch she would usually flinch away from. But she didn't, instead appreciating it for what it was- kindness.

"And if all of that had not happened to you, you would not be here with us, holding the key to saving Ferelden, perhaps the world, in the palm of your hand." he said gently.

"You're right." Isala said, pushing her hair behind her ears. "It's funny how things turn out-" a howl of laughter from the camp startled both of them, Varric was running round and round the tents as Cassandra threw books at him.

"She doesn't like how he ended his last book." Solas said.

"I take it his books are popular then?" 

"Oh apparently so. I am sure if you ask, Varric will happily give you some to try." He chuckled quietly.

"It would be pointless..I cannot read. Well, I can, but only some elvhen. We didn't have books in the clan, some of the elders could read but they didn't teach the rest of us. It's only now I'm beginning to see what I must have missed out on!" 

"You should perhaps learn then, I am sure it would benefit you, having to read through all those reports Cassandra's going to give you when we return to Haven..."

Isala wasn't sure if he was joking or not.

"Dread wolf take me, I hope she doesn't. I'll try to learn but I think I've been thrown in the deep end a bit too much lately as it is." she replied, suddenly very tired. Stifling a yawn she gave him a smile and gestured down towards the tents,

"We should both get some sleep. I'm sure tomorrow will be full of all sorts of adventures!" she said with mock enthusiasm.

Solas chuckled and clambered to his feet, 

"I'm sure. Sleep well, Isala." 

Isala walked back down to her tent, she wasn't sure if she had a friend in Solas or not, He was reserved and difficult to read. However different their backgrounds were, she had grown to enjoy the familiarity of being near another elf. It was like some kind of missing link, she had gone from being around lots of her own kind to suddenly having no one and now, some relatability again. Not that humans were all alien to her, they had proven not to be so different, but there was something comforting about being with her own kind. She wondered if Varric felt the same with Scout Harding, the only other dwarf she had seen. Maybe she would ask him at some point, they all spent so much time together eventually you had to run out of things to talk about! 

 


	6. Templars & Mages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group tackle the templar/mage problem before Isala goes fade walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me again, repeated apologies for any bad spelling etc. Still doing my take on conversations/banter. Not wholly comfortable writing in lots of combat as I personally don't really like reading it.

The next morning, it was a particularly grim Cassandra who roused Isala awake. As they packed away their tents and supplies and set out, she explained that, after receiving a warning from Scout Harding, the templar and mage situation currently reeking havoc in the Hinterlands showed no sign of slowing down. This had prompted Cassandra into deciding that, for the sake of the villagers and for that of the inquisition, they had to step in. Refugees were leaving the Hinterlands in their hundreds and the constant danger of being caught up in the fighting meant that the Hinterlands, generally a useful trade route, was almost useless. For the as of yet weak reputation of the inquisition and for the good of the people something had to be done. Seeing as there was no way to get the two sides on talking terms, Cassandra believed that the only option that remained to them was to wipe out the leaders on both sides, hopefully forcing some kind of truce. And so Isala, Varric, Cassandra and Solas traversed their way to Witchwood, the rumoured stronghold of the mages.

Isala had never fought magic to magic before, it was particularly exhilarating, to be so at one with her own whilst under threat from another. She and Solas were clearly more powerful than their enemies, forcing their enemies to devote all of their attention to shielding from ranged bolts of lightning and fire, while Cassandra and Varric broke their guards and made short work of them with bolts and blades. The leader put up more of a fight, but alone, he could not withstand their team work. When the fighting had stopped, Cassandra sighed and gave the mage corpses one last frustrated glance before turning her backs to them. She did not seem tired as she walked away, although her armour was slightly singed and blood spattered. Isala had already grown to respect her in a short space of time, she could tell she was not a bad woman, merely one trying to follow what she thought was right.

"What a waste of life." Cassandra said as Isala caught up with her.

"They weren't bad people, too proud, misled, but not evil. All we must do now is confront the Templars and hope, this will bring some peace to the land. Innocent people should not be dying because of it." she continued.

"It's easy to be misled if you're desperate. Doing the right thing isn't always that easy.." was all Isala could think to say in the moment.

Cassandra gave her a slight smile.

"I know that. Just over a week ago I wanted you to die for crimes I thought you had committed and now, here you are, one of us." 

Isala returned the smile with a nod. They weren't exactly friends, but she could more than tolerate her company. Cassandra was a fighter in more ways than one, it was clear to see. 

The Templars went the same way as the mages had. They were disorganised and surprised, unable to counter Cassandra and Varric's attacks while they were forced into a corner by walls of ice cast by Solas and Isala. To save all their weapons and supplies going to waste, the group took as much as was sensible and began their return to Scout Harding's camp to report back on their success. Cassandra was eager to return to Haven to speak with Leliana, Cullen and Josephine and receive updates on the inquisition status. She was confident, that at least for now the Hinterlands was a much safer place and the trade routes could re-open.

Isala walked with Varric, leaving Cassandra and Solas to lead the way, they were engaged in a mild debate of some sort, she heard the word 'apostate' mentioned several times. 

"So, are you alright?" Varric asked Isala.

"Overwhelmed. Tired. Confused." she replied.

"Ha, I thought as much. You just..fell out of a rift at Haven, then went from being a prisoner to being the 'Herald of Andraste,' I think most people would have spread that out over more than a few days."

"I still can't remember how I got there in the first place. I suppose I'm just glad to be alive."

"I hear you, now you're free to join our merry band of misfits!" he chuckled.

"None of this shit should have even happened." Isala said, in frustration.

"You're damn right. But you're what the people need now..some kind of hope. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes. Too much space to fuck up." he replied.

" _I_ don't even want to be in my shoes."

"Better get used to it. You're in it for the long haul." he said gently.

"I know. I'm trying.." Isala replied, feeling more exhausted than ever.

Varric gave her a thoughtful look and changed topic suddenly, telling her about his most popular series of books, 'Hard in Hightown.' she gladly listened, not minding the distraction from her own thoughts and the crushing sense of duty she was still adjusting to. She liked Varric, she enjoyed his sense of humour and sensed he had hidden depths, although noticed how he occasionally made remarks about dwarves in distaste. If Isala lived much longer, she would ask him why. 

The sky grew orange beneath the green of the breach as the sun began to set. The group had started to scout around for a good spot to camp as they didn't expect to reach Scout Harding until the next day. They ended up in the ruins of an old tower, sheltered from the wind and possible intruders. With the fire going strong, it was almost peaceful. Isala excused herself to bed early, the prospect of keeping up appearances too much to bear. She lay in her tent, cocooned in her bedroll. A single tear escaped her eyelid and she hastily wiped it away, frustrated at herself. Her whole life she had been taught to be tough, but now, raised up as some kind of example for others, it was far more scary than anything she had ever dealt with before. Even demons were preferable. The looming return to Haven had reminded her of the symbol she was to the people and how no matter what she truly wanted, for the sake of them she had to be strong. 

Isala walked the fade, drifting past idle spirits that weaved through the trees. This was a peaceful place, she felt no sense of threat. In the distance she could hear children laughing and shrieking, their mothers raising their voices with worry and then laughing along with them. Halla, the graceful deer-like animals that the Dalish cherished, grazed freely here and there, looking up lazily as she walked past. 

"A Dalish dream." said Solas, seeming to appear from nowhere beside her.

"It would appear so." Isala replied after recovering her composure.

"Hmm. Do the Dalish always dream so.. close to home?" he replied.

"I can't speak for every Dalish, Solas. More to the point, are you making this a habit? Following me?" she said, picking up on his barb towards her people.

"Following you? No, I was merely walking. A spirit led me here. If I had known it would be this..mundane, I would not have come." he replied.

"You have something against the Dalish?" she asked, feeling slightly irritated.

"They have lost what our people once were. And if I did not before our last meeting in the fade, I certainly do now. We came from magic, how can they reject it?" He sounded sad.

"I assume not  _all_ of the Dalish are like my clan. I don't hate them for it. How do you know so much about elvhen history?" 

"The fade." he replied shortly.

"If you know so much, you should help them to learn what they have forgotten." she said.

"I tried. I approached them, they were rude and mistreating. They referred to me as flat-ear." 

"Well, I'm sorry on behalf of the Dalish. I hope you don't think of me in the same way." Isala said, sincerely.

"I do not. You are willing to listen, at least."

"I am, I'm happy to hear it. Our history has always interested me, what little I know." She replied.

So she listened. They sat on the grass, a few metres apart and he told her some of what he had learnt. Of the great Elvhen city, Arlathan, and what it once was. How magic was as natural to it's people as breathing. They talked for a long while, time was different in the fade, Isala felt comfortable and relaxed, although she didn't know if it was just a product of the environment.

"Arlathan sounds marvellous." she said, truthfully.

"It was." 

"One day, I'd like to see it through the fade." 

He smiled, "It's always possible. There are unlimited memories here to be explored."

"You are mysterious, Solas." 

"Ha, maybe so." he said, still smiling. 

"What-

She was wrenched from her sleep by Cassandra, looming over her and shaking her shoulders. 

"Argh!" Isala shrieked.

"Get up. It's dawn. I want to return to Haven as soon as possible." Cassandra said shortly before she swept out of the tent, leaving the door flapping open behind her.

 


	7. Return to Haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a filler chapter here. Just fleshing out some more details etc. The crew prepare for Val Royeaux, Josephine tries to get some more background on Isala.

The trek back to Haven was not particularly memorable. Isala sat slouched upon her horse, anticipating and dreading the next step. She wasn't sure what it was yet, but was certain it involved 'being a symbol of hope' to the people. The others were quiet, she wondered if their minds also dwelled on the future, the crackling, spitting breach above them a huge reminder of what was at stake. The whole fucking _world_  apparently.

They arrived back in Haven after several days of travel, to a great crowd of excited villagers, their numbers swelled with refugees from the Hinterlands. 

"Act natural." Varric hissed.

"Natural? Shall I.. curse them in elvhen? Steal their newborn babes away, cackling as I do so?" Isala replied sarcastically.

Varric chuckled and patted her on the back.

"They'll get used to the idea of you, an elf being their Herald." he replied.

"Let's hope so.." she said quietly.

They headed up through Haven together, Varric and Solas dispersing to their own accommodations, Solas gave her a nod in farewell as he left. She tried to smile as she and Cassandra continued up towards the chantry, villagers stopping to stare at them as they passed.

"You are like me." Cassandra said suddenly. "I would hate to have all of these peoples lives in my hand."

"Quite literally." Isala replied, her palm giving an answering spark of light. They entered the chantry together and headed straight to the war room, where Cullen, Leliana and Josephine had already been told of their return. They were waiting, looking weary but smiling.

"Good work out there." Cullen said. "With the rebel templars and mages under control, word has spread of your deeds. We have garnered interest."

"The inquisition grows daily." added Leliana.

"However, people still point fingers at the mages, accusing them of being involved in creating the breach, we have had a few..incidents here since you've been away." he continued.

"An angry mob is an incident to you?" inquired Leliana.

Cullen gave her a withering look and gestured to Josephine, who cleared her throat, blushing slightly and waved a document in her hands.

"We think it is a good idea for you to travel to Val Royeaux. You may gain allies from the templars or the chantry there."

"Is that wise?" inquired Isala. "The chantry hasn't been keen on me so far."

"You need to stand your ground. Show that you wish to be united in destroying the breach. Surely they will listen..I have hope." Josephine replied. 

"I will go with her." Cassandra said, folding her arms.

"I should hope so!" Isala was shocked that it hadn't been definite that she would have some sort of company.

"Solas and Varric too." she added.

"I do not know if..an apostate mage who is also an elf and a dwarf who has a, shall we say, shady background will be looked upon well by the chantry there." Josephine said, as politely as possible.

"We cannot always afford to present ourselves in the way they would see fit." replied Cassandra firmly.

"That settles it then. You must leave soon, take some time to recuperate from your journey, but after that, it's off to Val Royeaux." Leliana smiled. She turned to Cullen and started drilling him about his latest recruits. Isala assumed she was dismissed and with a hasty goodbye she backed out of the war room and hotfooted her way back to her hut. It was with incredulous relief, that she found someone had carted a large metal tub into her sitting area, filled with hot water. The fabled bath, she guessed. She had never had a proper bath before, she was used to washing in streams and ponds, when she could find them. Peeling off her dirt-caked riding leathers, Isala eased herself in with a sigh and - wow. This was something she could get used to. The water had turned a satisfying muddy colour as she scrubbed her body, noting how she was slightly less bony now than before everything had happened. It was definitely nice to not have to go to great lengths to eat everyday. She rinsed her hair and slicked it back, noticing how her previously half shaved scalp had begun to grow into tufts. The rest of it was matted in a mess of braids, trailing past her collarbone like a cluster of silver snakes. Isala laughed to herself half heartedly, I must look like a true heathen to them, she thought. Once she had decided she had spent enough time wallowing in the bath, she redressed in a light tunic and leggings and unpacked, setting aside the herbs that she had promised Adan. Realising that it had almost grown dark outside, she stealed herself to leave the warmth of her hut and hand the herbs over, just in case they were desperately needed. She could tell Adan, in his own grumpy manner, was pleased that she had remembered. He tsked at a large scrape she had acquired on her forehead from fighting and thrust some sort of medicinal salve into her hands and ushered her out, saying that he needed his rest. 

Isala slept deeply, deciding not to enter the fade and instead letting her dreams proceed as they willed. She dreamt of Arlathan, or at least the description of it she had been given by Solas, of its golden towers and winding roads, the laughs and merriment of long dead elves, with magic flowing from every corner, connecting everything and everyone. Whilst she was not in the fade and it was only her imagination, it almost felt real enough to reach out and touch. 

She awoke to a sharp knock on her door. Stumbling to her feet and dragging on her usual attire, she raked back her hair and wiped her eyes. Isala opened the door and was surprised to find Josephine standing there, looking slightly awkward. 

"Herald, is this a bad time? I can come back.." she gestured back up towards the chantry.

"Call me Isala, Josephine. I was just up, what's going on?" Isala said, trying to be polite.

"I was wondering if..I could ask you a few questions. About your heritage. It is important that we know some of your background so we can present you in the best way. I also wanted to know..have you..experienced any poor treatment since your arrival in Haven?"

"Ah. Do you mean because I'm an elf? And a mage?" Isala replied, dodging the first question.

"Yes, that is what I meant. May I come in?" Josephine gave her a small smile. Presuming she had no other choice, Isala beckoned her inside a bit begrudgingly. She perched on the edge of a lounge seat, the room was rather small so Isala took a seat on the bed. 

"So, Isala, you were alone when we found you. But you are Dalish?" 

Let's get right into it then..thought Isala.

"Yes, I am Dalish." she replied shortly.

"Umm, so, no clan to speak of?" Josephine continued, picking up on the mood.

"Not anymore. I'm sorry, Josephine. It's hard for me to talk about. And concerning your other question.. I've had a few comments thrown my way. I can handle it." 

"I'm sorry that you have been treated that way by anyone here. I will be having words." Josephine sighed.

"Thankyou, not just for my sake, but for any other elves in Haven too." Isala replied.

"Alright, well, that covers it I think. Cassandra tells me you leave for Val Royeaux later today." 

"I guess we do. Thanks Josephine." Isala walked with her to the door and stood with in the doorway, Josephine smiled and wished her good luck before walking towards the chantry, carefully avoiding any puddles in her neat little shoes. She quite liked Josephine, although she generally appeared quite flustered, there was something kindly about her. To work in politics was something Isala knew little about or had much desire to, but was certain it was much harder than it looked. Glad to be alone again and knowing they were bound for the city of Val Royeaux that day, Isala took her time to wash her face and apply makeup, using kohl to line her eyes and some pinkish powder to stain her lips and cheeks. The result was pleasing, she thought. Isala was unused to making an effort, at least for the last few years. She looked older, more guarded now than when she was younger and used to study herself in the reflection of ponds, but she still had the same striking turquoise eyes, her lips slightly cracked but full. After putting on a brighter, smarter looking outfit, she walked up to the chantry to find out if anything had to be done before they left. 


	8. The Threat Remains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First trip to Val Royeaux, chantry and templar fight. Ends with the gang going off to meet a new ally for the first time. (Sera) ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, yesterday I wrote this whole chapter and ridiculously my phone decided to die and I lost the whole thing before posting. So I rewrote it, I enjoyed writing the chapter anyway. I stayed fairly true to actual in-game dialogue, but made some changes.

The golden gates of Val Royeaux loomed, holding back the heaving city within. As they walked through them, Isala could smell the harbour down below, hear the shouts of the dock workers as they moored their boats.

"Very fishy." winked Varric, almost as if he could see her nostrils wrinkling in distaste.

They began to pass townsfolk and travellers, distinguishable by their clothes. It appeared to be a very rich city, it was, after all the capital of Orlais, seat of the chantry. Although Isala knew that hidden somewhere, the city would have it's poor areas, it was unavoidable. At first, the passers-by didn't seem to register them, only turning their heads to do a double-take after they had walked past. Then, more and more people began to notice, they gasped, a smartly dressed woman wailed dramatically as if their arrival signalled something terrible. Word of the inquisition had definitely spread. 

"Well they certainly know who we are, Seeker!" Varric said humorously, although he looked pensive.

"As ever Varric, your skills in stating the obvious never fail to impress me." Cassandra replied dryly.

An inquisition scout saw them and ran over, looking panicked.

"The chantry and the Templars gather in the far side of the marketplace, they know you are coming!" she babbled.

"Well, let's just get this over with." said Varric. "Can't be all that bad, right?"

Isala felt herself becoming increasingly anxious, her chest had tightened to a fist. Stomach sinking with each step, they continued to move into the city, approaching the marketplace. Solas walked alongside her whilst Cassandra marched ahead, he was often quiet, brooding even, but she quite enjoyed the silence as it gave her her own time to think. It was nice to not always feel like she would be hounded by questions, or asked to join in conversations on things she knew little about. Yes, sometimes simply listening was more satisfactory. As they walked through the marketplace, Isala could not fail to notice that the city was indeed beautiful. Every doorway was adorned with red velvet drapings, lashings of gold glittered across the archways. They walked past great golden lion statues, bigger than horses, flanked by lovely bushes full of red berries. The whole place had a luxurious feel. By now, Isala could hear the humming of many people talking at once, the market was mysteriously empty. Clearly a huge crowd had gathered to watch the looming meeting of its chantry and templars, against the apparent threat..the inquisition. Isala's stomach somersaulted with nerves at the thought. They rounded one last corner and were faced with hundreds of people, all whipping round to stare at them. A woman dressed in chantry finery stood on a stage ahead, waiting to address the crowd. They waded through people, growing closer to the woman. She sneered at them and began to gesture wildly -

"Good people of Val Royeaux! We here mourn our beloved and kind divine, murdered by treachery and deceit. If you wonder what becomes of her murderer, then look no further! Here she is, the so-called 'Herald!' " she called to the crowd, who jeered and heckled the group as they continued to push through. 

"I never claimed to be!" cried Isala to the crowd, "Please, let us talk about this. There is a mutual threat, the breach! It affects all of us!" she pleaded.

"You are the only real threat! A liar who seeks fame while pretending to be sent from Andraste herself! The Inquisition are nothing more than a band of traitors!" the woman shrieked back, her audience yelling in agreement at her words. Isala took a step forward, her temper flaring- 

"Please listen to yourself you complete and utter b- 

Cassandra grabbed Isala's arm, surprising her enough to stop mid sentence. She then stepped forward and bowed her head,

"We came only to talk, your grace." Cassandra said, with a softness Isala had not thought her capable of.

"It is too late!! The Templars come to protect the chantry and strike down the Inquisition!" the woman replied, pointing to a group of armoured men who began to ascend the stage. The leader walked straight past her without a glance, one by one they followed, until the last templar gave the woman a swift elbow to the back of the head, sending her flying to the ground. The crowd gasped in shock, the woman moaned, she lay struggling on the stage floor, blood trickling from her hairline. 

"Still yourselves! She is beneath us." 

The leader said to his men, ignoring the crowd.

"Impressive!" called Isala, ignoring Cassandra's look of disapproval, "I was tempted to do that myself!" 

"We are not here to impress you. You are nothing. A mere speck of dirt upon my shoe."

The man replied coldly, barely looking at her.

"And what about the breach? Is that nothing to you aswell?" she replied.

"We Templars will defeat this breach. We do not need the help of a false prophet, or their treacherous followers."

"How many times!? I never claimed to be  _anything,_ but I'm the one with this mark on my palm, the same mark that can close rifts. We simply came to talk." Isala tried desperately to salvage some hope of alliance.

"Lord Seeker Lucius?"

Cassandra interrupted.

"Do not address me. You are a traitor."

He spat, then turned to address his Templars.

"Come, we depart Val Royeaux. It has been deemed unworthy of our protection. We Templars deserve respect and recognition, something we will not find here." 

Lucius gave the group one last disgusted glance and led his men away, not one of them looked back. The crowd was utterly silent in mutual shock and awkwardness, before deciding the show was over and dispersing back to their previous activities, beginning to murmur as they went.

"Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone completely mad?" Cassandra asked, to no one in particular.

"How well do you know this man?" Solas replied.

"Well enough..he took over the seekers two years ago from Lord Lambert. I always thought him a fair, understanding leader."

"Maybe something has happened to change his attitude?" suggested Varric.

"This is worrying to me. We should return to Haven and tell the others. I have not given up all hope..but..something is wrong here." Cassandra said quietly. She grunted and then began to stalk off back to the city entrance. Isala, Solas and Varric shared a worried glance as they began to follow. It was at that moment that suddenly, an arrow whizzed down into the ground between them.

"Shit!" yelped Varric, just dodging it.

"There's a note?" Isala said, plucking the arrow out of the ground to examine it.

"If you want to make friends. Come to the 'Secluded Courtyard' at nightfall. Signed by 'Friends of Red Jenny'?" she read. "There's a map here too, look!"

"Sounds like a trap." Cassandra said, who had rushed back to see.

"Or, a new ally?" Varric suggested.

"Both seem likely scenarios. We must be cautious." added Solas.

There was no question to Isala as to how they would respond. She knew they needed allies, more desperately than ever after the spectacle in the market. So they waited, wandering around Val Royeaux, avoiding the stares of residents until the sun had set. 

"Let's go find this 'Secluded Courtyard' then." Isala declared, passing the map straight to Varric, as if she had ever had a hope of making sense of it! He chuckled and pointed down a dark alley,

"This way." 


	9. Sera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang meet Sera and return to Haven. Also meet Grand Enchantress Fiona. Bit of Solas. Changed some dialogue as per usual. No one reads this anyway hahaha *cries*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I've only just got to this bit. Oh well, I like writing anyway.

They wound their way through dark alleys, following Varric who seemed to have a good idea already where this courtyard they were supposedly meeting at was. When asked if he knew much of Val Royeaux by Isala he simply shrugged and said-

"Oh, I've been about."

Cassandra raised her eyebrows and shared a glance with Solas.

"Am I missing something?" asked Isala.

"Our associate Mister Tethras here is a..hard dwarf to pin down." Cassandra replied.

"And don't I know it Seeker!" Varric snorted. "We're nearly there. Just round this next corner annnd.."

The alley opened up into a small courtyard, shielded by windowless buildings on all sides. Just as Isala had noticed they had company, a huge fireball came flying straight for her. With razor sharp reactions, Solas flung up a barrier just in time and the fireball burnt itself out against it. She took a step back and blinked, stunned. 

"Err. Well that was close. Thanks." Isala muttered, raising her hand to Solas. He simply smiled at her and relaxed the barrier.

"Well, well, well! The Inquisition! You've finally tracked me down." called a strangely accented voice, it's owner swaggering into view. They were a smartly dressed noble of some sort with a mask obscuring much of his face, he held another fireball between his hands. A mage then, she thought. 

"I'm sorry, who are you?" she replied. "Cassandra?" Isala said questioningly, Cassandra merely shook her head. 

"Don't lie now! I know you have been tracking me!" the man said again, stepping closer. 

"Oh, he's confident." Varric said with added sarcasm. 

"Now..let me see. Maybe we can make out some kind of deal that benefits us all?" 

"Are you..the friends of Red Jenny?" Isala asked.

"Ha! These  _Red Jennies_.. I have heard of them. Nothing more than-

"Just say  **what**." 

"What is the-

An arrow flew from Isala's left, puncturing the man's throat. She watched, mouth agape, as he fell gurgling to the floor. Casually, as if a man hadn't just been killed by her arrow, the archer strolled into view. 

"Ugh! Rich tits always try for more than they deserve." They said, bending down to extract the arrow from the dead man's neck.

"Blah blah blah..obey me..arrow to the face!" they continued.

"Anyway..you're the Inquisition right?"

Turning to face them properly, Isala realised they were an elf. She had a friendly face, short straw blonde hair and wore a brightly coloured outfit that seemed to have been made out of multiple materials. 

"Who's this Herald then?" 

"That's..me." Isala replied, moving forward.

"And you're an elf. Great. As long as you're not  _too_ elfy." The stranger said, sounding disappointed.

"Too elfy?" Isala inquired.

"Yeah. You know. Glory! Gods! Stupid tattoos! Whoops see you've got one of them. Bla bla." she rambled in response.

"You do know you're an elf too." Isala replied with disdain.

"Oh I know it! See you've got another with you. Oooh elf friends." 

Varric laughed in the background. Isala could imagine Cassandra and Solas rolling their eyes.

"Sorry, who are you, exactly?

"The friends of Red Jenny. That's me. And other people. But yeah, I'm one of them."

"And..what do you do?"

"Help the little people. You know who sees, who knows what's going on, my people. The servants, the friggin' bakers boy I dunno. But then posh twats like this- (she gestured to the dead man) think they can do whatever at the top, you know? But we find out and boom. Arrow to the face." she smiled triumphantly.

"So..you want to help us?"

"You seem like you want to get things done. There's a bloody great hole in the friggin' sky! Can't be having that."

"And your name is...?"

"Sera. That's me." Sera grinned.

"Sera, what can you bring to the Inquisition?" Cassandra asked.

"Um. Me. And contacts, lots of contacts. You help us we help you guys, deal?"  

Isala glanced round at Cassandra, who grimaced slightly but nodded. Solas had a strange expression on his face, like he couldn't understand what was going on and Varric just smirked and shrugged.

"Okay. Sera, you're in. Welcome to the Inquisition." Isala smiled.

"Yes! You're based in Haven right? Let's get our butts out of this stupid courtyard and go then." Sera grinned.

They headed back towards the marketplace, Sera in tow. She hadn't stopped chattering since they left, regaling them with various tales of her exploits and what she got up to with barmaids.

"Does she ever shut up?" Isala whispered to Solas.

"It would appear not. I hope you know what you are doing, Isala." He replied, with little humour. 

The marketplace was mostly empty as they crossed, apart from a woman standing near the entrance. She stood completely still, but as they passed she called out to them-

"Inquisition!" 

"Grand Enchantress Fiona?" Cassandra asked in surprise. "What are you doing here? I thought you were at Redcliffe?"

"We mages would like to discuss an alliance with you. Please come to Redcliffe when you can, I'm sure we can help each other."

"We will..consider it, Fiona. Is all well?"

"I..yes. We would like to help. Please, come to Redcliffe, Herald." the woman said, now looking at Isala. "I must leave." she added, hurrying off before Cassandra could say anything else.

"That was most strange." Solas commented.

"Indeed. We must return to Haven." Cassandra replied.

The group of five left Val Royeaux, mostly with relief. Isala didn't look back as they began their return to Haven. At least something good had come out of it, and she was utterly exhausted. They made camp a few hours into the journey, having waited up all night to meet Sera, everyone but her was on their last legs. She was like a bee, constantly buzzing about something and darting this way and that. Cassandra and Solas made their first opinions of her pretty obvious, sighing whenever she began to rant again. Varric seemed to find her bemusing. Isala didn't know what to think, a part of her thought Sera very silly and a bit much, but the other part..she was fun. Her cause seemed fair too, although she wasn't impressed with the elf comments. How can you completely disregard you're culture like that! She thought to herself. 

The group were pleased to reach Haven the next day, more alert after a nights sleep. Sera shot straight off to the tavern with a groaning Varric in tow, Cassandra to stride up to the chantry and Isala and Solas standing around. 

"Well, at the very least, you achieved something." he said.

"Templars..mages.. It's all very grey." Isala replied. "I have to say though, Grand Enchantress Fiona's offer was a little odd. Should they be that keen to ally?"

"They are desperate. The rebel mages, after separating from the Circle of Magi, have very few options left. I would be cautious, but certainly do not disregard it." 

"Why did they leave?" asked Isala, curious.

"It is a very long story. One I will be happy to tell you one day." Solas replied, with a small smile.

"Till next time then, Solas." She said with a sly grin.

He waved her off as she headed to her cabin. She had definitely grown more friendly with him as time went on, there was something about him she couldn't quite place though. 


End file.
